


Respite

by laEsmeralda



Series: Walking the Walk [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda





	Respite

“Stunning venue,” Neal remarked as they came through the door. He leaned over and said, “But not as stunning as you.” 

“Flatterer,” Elizabeth replied.

“Complimenter.” Neal put on being hurt. “The difference is sincerity.”

“Thanks,” Elizabeth accepted with a big smile. “Hard not to feel like I should be in a pantsuit hovering in the kitchen with a clipboard. Tonight is kind of a test, to see whether my team actually needs me to execute something like this.” 

“The valets were very professional,” Peter added. “We’ll see, of course, when it’s time to retrieve the car,” he muttered.

“Don’t be so cynical.” She turned and kissed him. “I’m going to check in so they know where to find me. You can grab a drink—open bar, and we’re at table 42.”

“Tell me that you are _not_ watching my wife walk away too,” Peter rumbled, standing at his shoulder.

Neal shrugged and didn’t take his eyes off her, mostly (but not entirely) to irk Peter. “It’d be rude not to watch. Such a great dress. Proper black velvet, pearls, straight across the collarbones, but backless. I’m partial to classy and backless. Particularly when the woman wearing it is that… shapely.” He looked sidelong at Peter. 

“I’ve just decided I am drinking tonight. One anyway.”

“Find the table,” Neal said, and headed for the bar, hiding a smile. He couldn’t resist teasing Peter for Elizabeth’s benefit, but it helped to mean what he said. It had been nice for them to invite him along, pick him up at home, make it clear that he was in no way in either’s dog house. It was his first face-to-face with Elizabeth since Peter had visited him _with intent_ as he liked to think of it. 

Peter hadn’t been back since that night. He had drawn Neal to the side of foot traffic to talk as they walked down the street a couple of days later. 

_“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Peter said. “But I also can’t do anything about it right now.”_

_“That’s the kind of thing you need to be careful about saying when I have to be presentable,” Neal replied, not joking. He watched some passers by for a few moments. “I’m fine. Spending far too much time in the shower, but fine.”_

_Peter swallowed hard at that. “I see what you mean about being careful.”_

Neal shook off the reverie before it could render him currently unpresentable, and took the drinks to table 42.

By all outward appearances, the party was going off without a hitch and the dance floor had already been elegantly populated. Still, Neal could see Elizabeth’s anxiety during dinner as her eyes flicked around the room. A woman of details, it would be difficult for her to relax here. She only left the table twice, but she was texting as well, probably to her lead assistant. She waved away dessert and carefully sipped her wine. A politico came up to talk with Peter, and as the brief greetings turned into a longer conversation, Peter stood up to chat, glancing apologetically at El. Neal turned to her. “Dance?” The big band had just ended a number and rolled into another.

“You dance. Why am I not surprised.” 

Neal took her hand as she stood and escorted her to the floor. He placed a hand in gentlemanly fashion on her waist and brought her in close, but not too close to prevent them from talking comfortably. A couple of turns later, he said, “I’m curious what Peter’s thinking right now.”

She looked across the room at Peter and then smiled up at Neal. “It looks to me like he feels like the luckiest man alive, and I don’t think he’s hearing a word the county commissioner is saying.”

“How are you?” Neal changed the subject. She smelled marvelous, vanilla and—was that pumpkin pie spice? Underneath it, he detected an unmistakable waft of arousal.

She didn’t waste time on stress chat. “I’m feeling wonderful about certain recent developments. But I wish we could talk. Really talk.”

“You could always come over. My place is safe.” He added, perhaps a little too warmly, “You’re welcome there, you know.”

She looked flustered. “I… I don’t know how Peter feels about that. I’m curious, of course, but I’m trying not to intrude. It’s early yet, and he’s still trying to figure out how much he wants me to know.”

“It’s not intruding if it was part of the deal.” 

She leaned in a little more confidentially. “He’s spoken to me about what it’s like to… be with you. A little. As best he can. I don’t want to push him beyond that.”

“No matter what, it isn’t okay if you feel uncomfortable.”

A secretive little smile lightened her face. “Define uncomfortable,” she said, playfully, looking into his eyes. 

The responsive jolt he felt didn’t exactly shock Neal, but it threw him off a half-step which he swiftly corrected. He brought his mouth close to her ear, “Careful. Mustn’t forget that I play for your team too.” He slid his hand around to connect with bare skin and felt a frisson go through her as his fingers brushed slowly across her low-back. She broke eye contact. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Just a gentle reminder so you don’t get more than you bargained for,” he teased.

Extra color rose in her cheeks. “I was trying to say that, having moved beyond hypothetical, I’m not at all unhappy with the situation. It’s difficult to talk about it as though it doesn’t… affect me.”

He smiled. “Good to know. I’ll be more careful.“ He drew her in, not close enough so that she could detect or worsen the stirrings, but just perfectly for the song finish.

“Cutting in,” came Peter’s smiling voice.

“For whom?” El teased, but Neal smoothly passed her into Peter’s arms and went to the bar for a second drink. With ice in it this time.

He watched them together, Peter holding Elizabeth very differently than Neal had. As much as Peter might have lost some romantic stride along the years as his wife’s beau, Neal had never perceived an absence of attraction between them or any sign that they needed to spice up their sex life. Whatever drew Peter to him was not about unhappiness at home. 

And Elizabeth… He sipped the frigid drink. That was a dangerous new thought and he so very much wasn’t going there. Not without a crystal clear joint invitation and a process of scrutinizing any such invitation for oh, say a couple of years. 

It struck him that he was currently the only one of the three suffering a lack of sex. This was not a welcome revelation. He pondered the situation over another long sip. Nobody to blame but himself, really. Once he had made up his mind not to remain celibate and had hooked up for a night, Peter had come to him soon after. It had to have been over a week since then. Now that the long drought had ended, there seemed little point in rationing. Apparently he had been home waiting by the phone without knowing it, temporarily oversexed and definitely underplayed. 

How to solve that might be tricky. While keeping up appearances to the contrary, he’d never been much for juggling bedmates, particularly when emotionally involved. He was definitely, unequivocally, emotionally involved, not that he was rushing to say so. It seemed suddenly clear that an absence of other attention… perhaps, specifically, female attention, was likely to cause some issues, like the surprising urge to bend his new lover’s wife over any handy piece of furniture. He sighed and put the unfinished drink on the bar with a tip and went back to their table. 

He wasn’t long alone. The pair of them came back laughing, and sparkling, and Neal couldn’t brood in that atmosphere. As the guests were beginning to take their leave, not too early, not too drunk, and with a warm buzz of thanks clustered around the hosts, Elizabeth raised her wine glass in a silent toast and drank the rest of it down. 

Since the valets hadn’t in fact, lost or damaged the car, Peter pronounced the evening a complete success. The easy banter that resulted caused Neal to lose track of where they were until they pulled up outside the Burke house. Elizabeth leaned over and kissed Peter on the lips. “’Night, Sweetheart,” she said. And then turned to Neal in the backseat. “Would you mind walking me to the door?”

Flabbergasted, he complied, making sure that between her slight tipsiness, and very nice heels, there weren’t any mishaps. Once the door was open and Satch greeted them with a cold nose, she turned to him. “It isn’t reasonable for you to only be together when I’m traveling. Nobody’s presuming anything—you’ll have to ask him up if you want, otherwise, he’ll be a good boy and just drop you home.” She placed a careful hand on Neal’s chest to balance herself as she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. With that, she went inside and shut the door gently in his surprised face.

When he slipped into the front passenger seat, Peter was watching him inquisitively. Neal shook his head. “She is…”

“Beyond amazing. I know.” Peter put the car in gear. He glanced at Neal and back to the road. “Tonight, I thought I detected an extra measure of chemistry between you two.” He said it lightly enough. 

Neal considered his words carefully. “Let’s table that discussion for well in the future. Maybe never. There was a lot of sensory input coming at me tonight along with a certain extra degree of… tension on my part.”

“Sorry for that last bit,” Peter said ruefully. “I wasn’t sure how best to proceed. With any of this.”

“We should talk about that new case since we have a little time,” Neal said, gesturing around the car.

Peter nodded and they drove the rest of the way talking shop. At June’s, Peter got out, shut the door, and leaned back against it. 

Neal read the body language. Safe to talk. Open to more. Not assuming. He risked it. “Coming up?”

“I could hardly drive for fear you wouldn’t ask.” 

Neal resisted the urge to pull Peter in for a kiss. “Maybe I should have said something when you took me aside the other day.” He tried to calmly run the keypad and walk, not run, up the stairs. Neal had just slipped his key in the apartment lock when Peter crowded up behind him and kissed the back of his neck, nudging his backside in the process with a hard cock that layers of clothing didn’t disguise. Neal couldn’t get the door open and then closed behind them fast enough. 

Certainly, the most soundproof place to fornicate in his apartment was not right inside the door, but he didn’t care just then. Ties and shirts flew. Somewhere, a cufflink pinged against a metal fixture, and he scratched Peter’s leg trying to get the man’s pants off. The floor was cold where the discarded clothing left it bare, but Peter didn’t complain and neither did Neal’s knees. When he slid his hips over Peter’s and gave him his weight, one gasped, one moaned, and there was a sudden stillness as they both tried not to lose it. Neal was grateful he wasn’t the only one on a hair trigger. His arms were shaking. Peter pulled him down into a kiss and they moved together fast and hard and didn’t last long. 

Peter relaxed back but didn’t let him go. “I wanted that to go on and on but I wanted it over so damn fast too.”

Neal mouthed at Peter’s chest and chuckled when he inadvertently lapped up semen. “You made me wait a week,” he growled.

“You could have called,” Peter said mildly. “What would be wrong with saying, ‘Come over and watch the game?’ What eavesdropper could read into that?” He sounded a little bewildered. “Or for that matter just say, ‘I want you’—“ He waved away Neal’s protest. “I’ve decided I don’t care who the hell is listening.”

Neal kissed and licked up over Peter’s chest and throat, finally catching his mouth hungrily.

Rolling off, and sitting up, he said, “Until tonight, it never would have occurred to me to ask for you when Elizabeth’s in town.” He reached for a t-shirt, checked to make sure it was his own, and wiped them both off. “You already spend enough time apart.”

Peter pillowed his head on a flung-back arm. “I would imagine that she did just fine on her own tonight,” he said with a grin. “If I were there, she wouldn’t feel free…”

Neal put up a hand and ducked his head. “Seriously, Peter, have mercy.”

“Sorry,” Peter said only half-contritely. “I know you said not to talk about it, but I’m kinda perversely compelled. It’s so easy to get a reaction all of a sudden.”

Neal sighed. Peter wasn’t going to let this go. “I’ve been crazy sexed-up with no place to go. I don’t really know what’s what—that’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You might be thinking I feel threatened. And perhaps a sensible man would be. But I’m not.”

“Tonight was just a mutual dazzle under special conditions.” He thought he might have detected a tiny bit of disappointment move through Peter’s expression at that. His insides chilled a little. “Maybe _this_ ,” Neal gestured between them, ”isn’t really your thing after all. Without El.” Neal deliberately employed both a casual voice and the pet name.

Peter ran a hand along Neal’s thigh. “ _This_ … mmm. … I want you to be happy and have everything you haven’t had in life, whatever that might be.”

Neal regarded Peter with increasing frost. “Sometimes I want to go out with women _and_ go home with them and fuck their brains out.” It came out just a tad more confrontational than Neal meant it.

Peter took a deep breath. “I was only jealous of that rose-woman because… I knew it had been a long time for you and I… I think I wanted to be the one you thought of first.”

“I did think of you first. Patently.” He put his hand over Peter’s and squeezed it. “Don’t under any circumstances put Elizabeth in the position of trying to fill that need so I don’t go elsewhere. I’m not saying that’s what you mean to do. You have to pay extra attention to that.”

“I get it. Bears thinking about.” Peter toyed with Neal’s fingers. “Just now, you didn’t mention fucking other men’s brains out.”

“You asking me not to?” 

“I’m making no demands upon you whatsoever,” Peter said, simply. “I’m happy just to be with you when I can.”

Neal melted at that. He weighed the pros and cons of taking the statement to the bank unfettered. But this was Peter. He would always choose his words carefully with Peter, but here, a full omission would be close to a lie. And telling the truth wasn't the best option. He settled on, “Right now, I’m not interested.”

Sitting up himself, Peter sucked in a breath as his joints parted ways with the cold floor. “Ow.” He studied Neal’s eyes for a long moment. “You’re kinda loyal after all, aren’t you?” He leaned in and kissed him, running his hands roughly into Neal’s hair. 

Neal felt himself stir with just a hint of recovery. It felt good, being both spent and in a position to anticipate further bliss soon. “Join me in the shower?” he said as they caught their breath.

“Would this be the same shower referenced in a recent sidewalk conversation?”

Neal gave him innocent wide eyes. “I only have the one.”

Peter got to his feet and pulled Neal with him, nudging him with a shoulder toward the bathroom. “If I’m staying, I should text El.”

Neal fished Peter’s phone out of a coat pocket and handed it off. “I’ll go warm up the water.”

Not an unusually modest man, Neal found walking around naked in front of Peter—now that he knew Peter wanted to look at him—both freeing and strange. He felt self-conscious for different reasons now than before. Peter started texting but Neal was relatively certain he watched Neal’s ass as he left the room, and that made Neal grin but he didn’t let Peter see it.  
*******

 

_Staying over here if you’re okay. ?_

They had agreed that no details should pass through the phones by voice or text. It was challenging. 

_I’m fine, just… look after him. Love you._

_Love you too, El._

_I know, silly._

She set the phone on the nightstand and went to check the house one last time out of habit. It had been an hour since she’d walked through the front door herself. She couldn’t help but wonder what had taken place in the extra forty minutes beyond driving time, and felt a little shiver run along her skin. 

Elizabeth didn’t think she was much of a voyeur usually, but Peter-Neal vignettes had been playing in her head with increasing frequency over the past year. Lately, she was completely preoccupied with wondering which flights of her imagination were becoming reality. And perhaps pushing them to become so. Which could be dangerous.

While she waited for the dog to return from his last bathroom break of the night, she searched her feelings. Again. There was no ick of any kind. No insecurity, no worry, no left-outness. She did feel a bit of frustration at Peter’s…shyness about all of it. Satch hurtled back in the door and she locked up. He settled into his bed near the fireplace—no way to explain to him that he shouldn’t wait for Peter—and she headed up to hers. 

In the snug dark, alone, it was too easy to slip back to the conversation with Neal, dancing, being charmed. She had felt daring as the extended wave of nerves about the Stevenson’s party had begun to pass. Neal always made her feel cherished, exempt from his competitions, somehow under his protection—even from himself. 

A little flirt came a bit too easily, had seemed harmless. But oh, no, his fingers had, on purpose, slid along the small of her back and soaked her panties. He had abruptly reminded her that wild animals do not make safe pets. 

She heaved an embarrassed sigh and pulled the comforter up higher. Granted, she had let it go that far. She had banked considerable arousal from listening to Peter and Neal banter on the way to the event, and editorializing in her head. Fancy dress, a little wine, being swept along the dance floor by a smooth, smart man, eyes following them—Peter’s eyes following them—all of it had contributed. Whether Neal knew his precise effect upon her or not, he had meant to teach her a lesson. She didn’t think he’d meant to shame her; that was probably her own baggage. But she was an attentive student and wouldn’t soon make the mistake again. 

Still, it was a marvel that a single sweep of fingertips on ordinary skin could have such a profound effect. She felt herself respond just recalling it. Then a different thought occurred. Those same hands were on Peter just now. El made a soft sound of realization as something else fell into place. How could Peter explain being undone by such a little caress? He might not even recognize it, a touch that had happened in passing, something that haunted him from day to day, got under his skin. Maybe it had been something purposeful Neal had done born of longing, or just as easily, something unconscious. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she said out loud. 

Maybe this is why Peter had trouble talking about it. He was normally quite open about sex. He had shared his ordinary sexual quirks over the years without shame and had accepted hers without awkwardness. He could talk dirty upon her occasional demand. And he didn’t hide that sometimes he liked to keep to himself with some porn. But regarding Neal, words seemed to fail him. 

What he did share was the general mechanics of what passed between him and Neal, and he would never win awards for the best Penthouse letter let alone the Best American Erotica. But neither could he hide how he felt about it, and that was the intoxicating part. She mulled over that one time he had tried to open up…

****  
There had been wonder and shyness and desire in his voice when he said, “I’m pushing fifty, I just blew a guy for the first time, and it rocked my world.” He glanced up at her nervously as he sat at the corner of the coffee table. “Are you okay with hearing that? And that I kissed him. A lot. I mean, this isn’t hypothetical any longer.” 

Elizabeth reached out and took his hand. “This is good for you. It doesn’t hurt me. In fact, I’m a little worried that I like the idea so much. Makes me kinda kinky, I guess.”

“And I don’t want you to think that my mind’s on Neal when you and I are together.”

She laughed. “As long as you know you’re with me, I don’t care much what flits through your head. Well, I guess I prefer Neal to Halle Berry,” she confessed.

He smiled at her, relief and a little surprise showing. “The strangest thing about it is that I’m not suddenly looking around at men thinking, ‘Look at that guy, I’d love to nail him.’ It’s all about Neal. Or maybe that’s just denial talking, but I don’t think so.”

Elizabeth so wanted to press him for details. “You know that I’m curious. And I hope you know that you can tell me anything. But you have to want to tell me. When you’re ready.”

“I need to digest it a little more, first,” he admitted. 

“There’s no hurry,” she replied. It was a stretch for her, but she could tell he needed the grace.

It seemed to have an immediate positive effect. “I can say this. When I was… touching him, he was outside his head and in his body, so not running a game or trying to be special… I wish you could have seen him, he was absolutely beautiful, like he was lit from the inside. That’s the real him,” Peter said, earnestly. 

Even as the wantonness of the image blazed through her body, she thought, ‘You love him,’ and she almost said it out loud. But it was something he’d have to realize, and it wasn’t anything new. She’d watched him fall for Neal’s mind years ago. Fortunately, whether because Peter had room for deep love of more than one kind, or because the male/female dynamics really did make a difference, it didn’t seem to compromise Peter and her. At least, she thought, not so far. “I’ve never known you to be wrong about who’s redeemable and who isn’t. It had to be there for you to spot it; even when you were taking him out of play, you hoped he’d find a better path. I said there was no hurry for me, but don’t leave Neal hanging. It’s a delicate time for him.”

And they had left it at that for the time being.  
****

Now that she understood better, she wondered when that touch had connected Peter’s body, as well as his mind, to Neal. She was suddenly certain it was the thing that baffled Peter and left him unable to describe what he felt. Maybe if he could tell her about the moment of realization, he could tell her anything. She resolved to tell him about dancing with Neal. Perhaps it would trigger a memory of his own.

Her analytical self was satisfied in having data, an interpretation that fit, and a plan, so it finally rolled over and went to sleep. 

The rest of her should have been exhausted with all the planning, the stress, and the excitement of the day. Instead, she felt charged. She took a deep, slow breath, a tried and true relaxation technique, and was suddenly reminded instead, in a waft of intermingled scents, that Neal and Peter were together. Right now.

Elizabeth never wore perfume for meet and greets. He favorite body lotion smelled mildly like good baking, but she followed the socially polite rule not to apply it anywhere above the bra. Most times, she came home covered with the mixed and overdone perfumes and colognes of less polite huggers and couldn’t wait to shower them off.

Tonight, when she had undressed, fighting the dress zipper a little without Peter there to help, she noticed an intriguing combination of light smells and it took her a few moments to sort it out. Layers of Peter, then Neal, then Peter, then Neal, comingled, with a little of her underneath, an innocent coincidence of hugging her and dancing with her—the two of them hadn’t actually embraced each other. But she felt redolent of the men’s attraction to each other and couldn’t bear to erase it. So she had washed off her makeup but hadn’t showered.

It still smelled fascinating. She had cured Peter of common scented aftershave many years ago. What she bought for him abroad mixed well with his own smell and was always identifiable from among the over-heated men’s trend-fragrances. Neal’s _Escentric Molecule 01_ (she had broken down and asked) didn’t belong to the latter category either, at least not on him in the tiny amounts he wore. You had to be close to catch it, no doubt according to his plan.

If she was completely honest with herself, wearing that combination on her skin, carrying it, catalyzing it, was a heady power. It was as though she held the space for them, spun the magic to make their connection possible. Perhaps it was that feeling that had made it easy for her to turn to Peter and tell him goodnight, without prior planning. 

She glanced at the clock. Twenty whole minutes had passed since Peter had texted. She doubted seriously that he was staying over just to sleep—despite his snuggling tendencies. That thought made her smile. Neal could use some snuggling.

 _… I kissed him. A lot,_ floated through her consciousness in Peter’s aroused voice and brought with it a deep stab of pleasure. She could easily envision them kissing. Both of them dominant personalities, both of them tender as well, with a great deal of longing to express. She didn’t have to imagine how Peter moved or sounded, how he would touch, and she knew just enough of Neal to extrapolate. 

At first touch, her fingers slid easily, so easily, it was almost over then. She managed to stop. But her mind went on, contemplating that Neal’s witty, expressive mouth would know exactly what to do with her husband’s cock, fingers flexing on Peter’s thighs, his own eyes sliding closed, overwhelmed, totally in the moment, but then they would open again, to watch the bliss burst over Peter. She let herself go then.  
*******

Peter leaned against the shower wall, breath heaving. Neal crouched at his feet, water sluicing over his gleaming skin, and Peter reached to tug him up and draw him close. Neal’s arms slid around him in turn. It wasn’t the holding of comfort or need, but an anchoring of self to self, a steadying. But they were both restless. “I’d really like to hear you,” Peter murmured, his hands moving downward.

“The shower was your idea,” Neal replied with a smile, gently blocking him. “I’m holding out for something else.”

Peter shifted and slid his belly against Neal, eliciting a gasp. “What might that be?”

Neal’s nose traced a line from Peter’s shoulder, up his neck, behind his ear. “Wait and see,” he whispered. He shut off the water, grabbed a towel and handed it to Peter. Much to his surprise, Peter used it to start drying Neal off, pausing to bare-palm his cock.

“Stop,” Neal hissed, stepping back. “That was close. Told you I’m saving up.” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, “It’s just so… hard to ignore.” He bent to dry Neal’s legs. The anklet flashed wetly. He touched it. “This. It seems so wrong.”

Neal draped a fresh towel over Peter’s shoulders. “I chose it. And I chose it again. Not your problem.” 

They paused in the kitchen for a snack, and Neal took the opportunity to negotiate. “I want to discuss doing something for Elizabeth. To thank her.” 

“I’m guessing it doesn’t involve sending flowers,” Peter replied, wryly, popping a few almonds into his mouth.

Neal paused, took a swig of water. “Your darling, she who is my friend and ally, is trying hard to give you space, determined not to grill you for details. I’m gathering that you aren’t exactly opening up to her.”

Peter avoided his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“Do you understand that this isn’t just Elizabeth giving you or me a gift—although I appreciate that aspect.” He leaned forward confidentially, for effect. “She _likes_ it. I think you’re missing a bonus here.”

That got Peter’s attention. “She may have alluded to it.”

“She knows how you make her feel, so she most likely understands what’s going on for me. It’s your side of the equation she’s trying to grasp. How I make you feel.”

“It’s just… I’m not very good at describing… this. I’ve worked for the FBI too long, I guess, everything is factual. No adjectives. Trying to use them sounds… smutty. Romance novelist I am not.”

Neal laughed. “I can see that.”

“I just haven’t been able to put into words how it feels.”

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

Peter regarded him warily. “Explain.”

“Earlier, we were talking about my reaction to Elizabeth tonight. But there’s another part to it, which is her response to me. We play off each other, dynamically, the three of us. I’ve kissed her, you know.”

“You have?” 

Neal read the reaction carefully. Surprise, more wariness, desire, curiosity. He wanted to play with it, but it seemed dangerous. “I had to tell her all about throwing myself at you. She not only accepted it, she gave me her blessing. So… it was spontaneous. Nothing French about it, by the way.” He saw Peter’s wariness ease, the curiosity grow, so he decided to push. A little. “When we were dancing tonight, things got a little flirty _after_ she could see you watching us. She wasn’t aware of just how much that turned her on and then she turned it right around on me.” This was definitely expanding the desire bit of Peter’s expression. “You’ve got a firecracker there.”

“I’m aware,” Peter replied, deadpan.

“I just couldn’t resist calling her out. I had no choice.”

“What did you—” Protectiveness rose in the mix of expressions.

Neal put up a hand. “Nothing bad. I touched her bare back. But I did it with intent. And she got it, just like that.”

“Oh.” Peter looked relieved, and then bemusement took over. For a few moments, he seemed somewhere else, and then he was back. “How do you know?”

“Gentleman.” Neal held up some scout fingers.

“Bullshit.” Peter leaned forward. “Come clean, Caffrey.”

“Experience, that’s all. Pupils, heartbeat, breathing.” He studied Peter’s body language. “Like you’re not mad at me right now, you’re horny again.”

Peter huffed. “Not rocket science with men.” 

“The table’s between us. And a firmly wrapped towel.”

“I’m not satisfied.” Peter caught the double-entendre. He shook his head. “With the explanation. Spill.”

Neal shrugged. “It’ll come as no surprise that I like to watch faces, part of my ongoing fascination with human expressions. I do it during sex too. There’s often a moment, when your fingers find just the right place, or maybe its your words that do it, but you’re right there to feel the flood happen, that preamble that says that the gates are open. A woman’s face responds too. That’s what you learn to look for in that microsecond before she gets embarrassed or covers it with something else.”

Peter took a long moment to absorb that, his mouth slightly open. “I can’t believe you were seducing my wife. Right in front of me.” Amusement overrode the incredulity.

“The experiment accomplished several things. I needed to remind her that I’m bi. Easily forgotten since in her head she keeps seeing me with you. She didn’t mean to do it, she’s no coquette. But it’s going to make boundaries difficult for me if I end up on the receiving end of that too often. And I thought I could give her a window. Into you.”

“So what you’re saying is that you wanted her to feel what I feel. With you.”

Neal nodded. “A glimpse. If possible. She needs to know that she’s connecting with you, even when you’re with me. And it communicated to her my own… need.”

There emerged the rueful smile of realization. “Getting my wife hot and bothered made her send me home with you.”

Smiling like the Mona Lisa, Neal circled the table and flicked off Peter’s towel. “And we’re going to thank her properly. If I can possibly convince you.”

“That is a truly terrifying preamble.”

“Come on, you wuss,” Neal teased, “I promise, it’ll be fun.”  
*******

 

“Hard to believe this is the first time you’ve set foot in my place,” Neal said. He poured Pellegrino at the sink and handed Elizabeth the glass. His fingers brushed hers in the transfer more than absolutely necessary. He had a job to do, a mood to establish, a responsibility. After all, this had all been his idea. And he intended to enjoy it.

“It’s cute as can be,” she replied. “And that terrace, Wow.” City lights glittered in the growing dusk above the terrace wall. 

“Almost the best thing about the place.” He saw her eyes flick over the couch and then to the bed, lingering there. “Elizabeth, the other night, I might have… overemphasized a point. Am I forgiven?”

She blushed faintly and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have flirted with you.”

The bloom on her was achingly lovely. His warm smile in return, while meant to put her at ease, nevertheless expressed a somewhat deeper response. He raised his glass to buy a moment. “We have the perfect excuse. Here’s to being under the influence of Peter.” They clinked glasses and laughter seemed to banish both Elizabeth’s embarrassment and Neal’s inevitable urge to press an advantage.

A knock interrupted. “Speak of the devil.” Neal went to the door to find a very nervous looking Peter. “Time to pay the piper,” Neal said low and soft and then, stepped to take a hat from the rack. “That’s my cue.” He went back, took away Elizabeth’s glass, and swung her into a dance step. “A comped luxury suite with room service is calling my name.”

“I thought we were all having drinks here,” Elizabeth pouted. 

“A little white lie,” Peter said showing about an inch between finger and thumb. “For a good cause.”

Elizabeth cocked her head at him as Neal swayed with her and Peter mock flinched at the silent scolding.

“My place is yours for the night. Trust me.” Neal whispered into her ear, gratified that she shivered against him. And then he kissed her on the mouth, balancing conveyance of interest with just the right hint of propriety. He basked in the way she yielded, and then thrust her gently at Peter. 

“Cab’s waiting,” Peter said, nodding to the packed overnight bag by the door. His eyes were warm with amusement as he pretended to rush Neal out.

“Thanks for that.” Neal winked at Elizabeth as he exited, snagging the bag on the way. He grinned all the way down the stairs and tipped the cabbie ridiculously to make haste.  
*******

Elizabeth crossed her arms. “What gives? You two can get up to some frightening mischief.”

“You’ve no idea,” Peter replied. He took her elbow and gently turned her toward the kitchen table. “Let’s sit down.” He rummaged around and located a bottle of scotch, poured himself a drink. “Want any?” She declined. Once seated and fortified, he took a deep breath. “Whatever was going on for him, I think Neal never would have let me know. I started it, by coming here that day, trying to be there for him.” Peter set the glass aside. “I’m sorry this is so tough to talk about. Nobody trains you for it,” he jested.

Elizabeth touched his arm, smiled into his eyes, and didn’t say anything.

“Okay. So. That afternoon, he cried so hard and so long, it felt like he was breaking apart. But afterward, I didn’t let him go because holding him felt so good. _He_ pushed away. Somehow he sensed that deep down, I wanted him. I didn’t even know it.”

Sighing, Elizabeth rested her face on her hand. “I did. Somewhere along the line he must have touched you, whether he meant to or not, in a particular way, and that was that, your nervous system just woke up to him. Maybe you didn’t realize when it happened. Or maybe you felt it at the time and couldn’t process it until later. It’s been months, Honey. At least.” 

Peter suddenly took on his investigator look. “He told me what he did while you were dancing the other night.” 

“Damn him. I was going to tell you.”

“I think he’s only mildly contrite.”

“So, what do you think… hypnotism, some kind of Caffrey signature?” she asked, only half-joking.

Peter shook his head. “He’s reading and responding. Other than that he’s uncanny at it, it isn’t a special power. Being Neal, he can’t help playing with any talent.” 

“So have you asked him when? If he even knows…”

“When I just said to you that I didn’t know I wanted him, that’s the truth. But I had felt _something_ before that day and dismissed it.” Peter smiled at her, the secret smile of the long-time lover. “That wonderful present you gave me, the fancy watch. It happened the first day I wore it in the field.”

“That was an intense day.”

Peter nodded. “You know Neal’s like a magpie with nice things. He kept looking at it, couldn’t leave it alone. We were waiting at the coffee kiosk and he took my wrist and ran his thumb around the case and all along the band, touching me the whole time. Thankfully, he didn’t look at my face.”

“It sounds like the problem wasn’t your face,” Elizabeth teased.

“I was wearing a coat,” Peter said, dryly. “I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I figured it was the adrenaline doing funny things. That was a convenient explanation, so I wrote it off.” Peter took both his wife’s hands. “Until it happened again. This thing with Neal isn’t just sex, for me.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’m glad that’s occurred to you.”

Peter’s brows drew together again. “How can that not worry you at all? I’m missing my chance to offer you all sorts of heartfelt assurances.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hands. “What a smart dummy you are. From my perspective, you fell in love with him oh, at least two years ago.” 

Peter looked stricken and she tried not to laugh. 

“You just couldn’t realize it for what it was, which is completely understandable. He’s a man. And a criminal. But smart, and you like smart.” She tapped the table for emphasis. “He knew how to work your angles even though you caught him at it. He sent you mementos that you actually liked and kept even as you bitched about it. You couldn’t stop thinking about his next move even after you put him away. I had lots of time to be jealous and to try to hate him. But in the end, Neal isn’t hate-worthy. Loving him hasn’t made you love me less.”

He leaned over and kissed her long and soft. “I’m sorry for the times I’ve neglected you. For cases, for Neal, for any reason.”

“We both have passions that absorb us. But they don’t have to distance us.”

“You are beyond amazing.”

“Not really,” she deflected, “I’m just discovering a kinky preference for picturing my husband making out with another hot guy. Were you aware of the magazine thing, by the way?”

Peter colored up a little. He sighed. “I knew you knew. What can I say, I’ve always enjoyed looking at stylish guys. I didn’t think it meant anything else than comparative curiosity or aesthetic appreciation.” He squirmed a little. “Well, maybe it was a little more visceral than that. But it isn’t like I wanted to look at them with their pants off,” he said just a bit defensively.

“What would be wrong with it if you did?”

“Nothing. But I’d have admitted it to myself.”

“The hat photo?” She didn’t let him off the hook. 

Peter shrugged. “I just kept going back to it. Probably the beginning of the end of unconscious repression.” 

“I’m glad to know.”

“You already knew. You have _instincts._ Should have been an investigator.”

“One of those in the family… or one and a half or so counting the wannabe, is plenty. What I’m trying to get across is that I’m glad to hear you say it.” She fiddled with her glass. “I was on the phone one day, listening to a client rant, and I started flipping through the stack of magazines for visual distraction. When I ran across that photo, flattened-out-dog-ear and all, I got totally hot. I had to cut her off so I could pay attention and study it. The idea that you had been looking at it, as though it were him, over and over, and then tried to hide the marker. God.”

“I see,” Peter said, watching her face intently. “Okay, the tour isn’t over.” He lifted her hand and stood them up, walking her through the sitting area. “What do you see?”

“Good taste. Lots of books. He draws. There’s no television. I love that. Or is it hidden somewhere…”

“You wouldn’t know it to look at the man but he’s a hopeless nerd—there’s just not enough time in a day to learn everything in the world. No time to waste.” He paused to let her study the details and then ushered her toward the bed. “So continuing with that day… Neal seemed exhausted so I brought him over here. I literally tucked him in.” Peter touched a pillow. “He still doesn’t know that I watched him sleep for a bit. I sat here and stroked his hair.” He sounded sheepish and aroused at the same time. “I couldn’t leave him here alone, he seemed too fragile, so I decided to do some work.” He drew her over to the couch, nudged her to sit down, and then joined her. He took a deep breath. “This is where I fell asleep, had the most wonderful dream about you, and then woke up coming in Neal’s mouth.”

“Oh,” she said, setting down her water glass on the coffee table rather hard. 

He didn’t avoid her eyes and her pupils were steadily widening, just like Neal had described, so he forged on. “He was kneeling there, taking all of me like he was starving for it, and it was all I could do not to grab him and hang on for dear life. But I didn’t. So afterward, he freaked out and ran. I lay here, heart thundering away, and tried to sort it out.” 

Her eyes suddenly looked glazed over. “Go back… for a sec. To the part where he was taking all of you….” She shuddered.

“Thanks to Neal, I’ll do better than that,” Peter murmured. He went around and shut off the lights and then brought over Neal’s laptop and slipped in a flash drive. He had to type in a long code to unencrypt the image player. 

Neal’s empty bed almost filled the screen, made up all in white and pale blue, comforter folded down. Warm light appeared to be in motion like flickering candlelight, but somehow, there was enough to show the little creases in Neal’s sheets.

Elizabeth audibly sucked in a breath. Peter touched her shoulder. “I’ll leave if you’d like. This… is just for you. We had to come here to see it—the file can’t leave the apartment.”

Elizabeth didn’t say anything but she reached out and grabbed his sleeve, forcing him back to the couch. 

The curve of Neal’s bare ass came into view first as Peter backed him slowly toward the bed. They were both naked but for Neal’s hat which was slowly losing its perfect tilt during the kiss. Wherever the camera had been placed, at that moment, it caught them and an angle of their reflection in the standing mirror. The sound of their counterpoint breathing and traded kisses could clearly be heard. Neal slipped a hand between them and moaned softly. 

_Elizabeth’s fingers dug into Peter’s arm._

Peter broke away from Neal’s mouth. “I can guess what little bird told you about the hat,” he murmured, sliding his hand through Neal’s hair to trace the brim. “Naughty her.” And then, he tossed it across the bed so he could get both hands into Neal’s hair.

Neal’s free hand wrapped behind Peter’s neck and pulled him into a more aggressive kiss. Peter’s stance shifted, his legs bracing as Neal’s hand working between them compromised his balance.

Then, Neal started to give ground, easing back onto the bed, but Peter stopped him, palm firm on his backside, and began to kiss his way down Neal’s neck and collarbones. Neal’s head tilted back and he tangled his hands in Peter’s hair, less and less quietly expressing his enthusiasm. Peter kept going, zigzagging downward over chest, and belly until finally, he was on his knees, a hand on each of Neal’s hips. He paused, drawing Neal’s attention downward so their eyes locked. Peter’s right hand disappeared inward and Neal bit his lip. After a long moment, Peter shifted a nudge to the left, exposing to the camera what he was doing—applying long, slow strokes. “I don’t think I’ve had the courage to say yet that I love touching you,” Peter said, leaning in to rub a clean-shaven cheek along his length as well, eliciting a groan. And then he looked up at Neal’s face. “I suppose I’d still like it if it weren’t so pretty or so thick, because doing this makes you look like _that_.” 

Neal visibly stifled another sound. “Ease up,” he husked, “or this is going to be over way faster than we planned.”

Peter took him into his mouth and Neal’s head went back again, his throat bared. “Not helping,” he groaned. Despite his words, his hips slid forward and back, just a little, following Peter’s rhythm until Peter’s began to make soft, hungry sounds. Neal froze. “Stop. Please,” he gasped. 

Peter let him go, slowly, and sat back on his heels, watching with fascination the rush of Neal’s blood. 

“Come here,” Neal said at length, climbing onto the bed and kneeling there. It wasn’t the sort of tone to ignore. He drew Peter into another kiss, slow and agonizing, hands brushing down his back, over his ass. When Peter wasn’t looking, he reached down without breaking the kiss and rotated the tracker to a more comfortable position. 

_”Damn it,” Peter whispered. “He hid that from me.”_

_Elizabeth moved to lean back against him. “He doesn’t want it to feature in your sex life. At all. Now shush.”_

“Indulge me for a minute,” Neal said. “Lie on your stomach.”

Peter stretched out, no questions asked, his head turned to watch Neal. Neal reached under a pillow, and came up with a petite bottle of lotion. He waggled it. “I lifted this from Elizabeth’s evening bag,” he said, popping it open and squeezing some onto his fingers. “I think this is part of what made her smell so delicious this evening. Pumpkin pie of all things.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. He paused. “Of course, the rest of it was the pure excitement rising off her.”

“Clearly, you enjoy turning my wife on,” Peter replied. “Can I hope that it’s just so you can bask in the scent of home cooking?”

Neal chuckled and very much didn’t answer. He touched the lotion to Peter’s tailbone and hesitated, looking for a moment as though he didn’t know what to say. And then, “Remember, we made a pact, so you’ve nothing to fear from this.” His fingers slid down between Peter’s buttocks, his right hand on the small of Peter’s back. Peter instinctively froze, and then slowly relaxed back down as Neal circled and stroked. “Just want to see if this does anything for you. Not everyone likes it.” 

“Do you?” Peter gasped, fists tight on the sheets by his face. 

“Some other time you can find out.” He changed to long, steady strokes, balls to tailbone and back, until Peter’s glutes were clutching at his hand. 

Neal shifted to straddle Peter’s hips, replacing his hand with something decidedly smoother. Leaning both hands against the small of Peter’s back, he ground himself against Peter. Peter broke his silence and groaned loudly into the sheets. 

Slowly, fucking against Peter the whole time, Neal slid his hands upward on either side of Peter’s spine, across his shoulders, and down his arms to interlace his hands with Peter’s. He lay fully against him, still working against his ass. Nuzzling into Peter’s neck, Neal said, “It’s so tempting… But only if the other person is totally into it.” 

The sound that came out of Peter could only be described as a permissive whimper. 

Neal let the sound resonate and then rolled off to lie on his back. “Your turn to top,” he said, cheekily. He gripped himself to offer further incentive.

Peter launched at him, entangling their legs and feet, bracing his arms, leaving enough room for Neal’s arm to maneuver. Neal shifted from holding himself to stroking Peter. 

“Whoa,” Neal said, pulling his hand free and displaying a web of spider-silky threads that oozed slowly down to pool on his chest. “I guess you liked it.”

“You really don’t know when to shut up,” Peter growled, and he closed the gap between their bodies, burying his face in Neal’s neck. There wasn’t any more coherent speaking as they moved together, Neal writhing in encouragement as Peter mouthed at his neck and throat. 

“Oh,” Neal said suddenly and bucked up, hard. 

“Me too,” Peter choked out against Neal’s skin. 

_“Oh-god-yes,” Elizabeth exclaimed in a rush._

_Sprawled out on the 400 thread-counts, receiver in his ear, Neal heard what he had hoped for, what had him biting his lip so hard to wait for, Elizabeth crying out in simultaneity with the ghosts of him and Peter. He brought himself off with her, not needing to quiet himself for anyone’s sake._

_Elizabeth heaved her first full breath since Neal had swung on top of Peter. Peter’s fingers remained inside, and she was still after-shocking around them. “Holy heart failure, Batman,” she tried to joke, elbowing herself to a more seated position against his chest as he withdrew his hand. And then she hushed herself, because the screen was still in motion._

Peter shifted off, leaving Neal’s belly and chest smeared with their fluids, and collapsed next to him. 

“I was playing,” Neal said, soberly. “I hope I didn’t—”

Peter interrupted him, “It’s just surprising that I could change my mind like that.”

“Actually, that’s how people end up doing stupid things all the time. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea in the moment.”

“Are you saying… it would be a bad idea?”

For a long few moments, Neal studied Peter’s face. “I’m saying that impulse and reality are often very different. All _this_ is about expressing how good you make me feel. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Peter let out a sigh that might have been relief or something else entirely. Open to interpretation. Then he chuckled. “I forgot about the camera.”

Neal grinned. “Nice compliment.” He yawned and didn’t cover it. “Being a guy, I’m about thirty seconds from snoring.” He got up and moved off camera. Lights started dimming.

“I haven’t heard you snore,” Peter said, rearranging pillows.

“You slept here once for like two hours.” Now there was just a pool of light around the near bedside.

“Wrong. Slept in your _bed_ for two hours. I’ve slept ten feet from you plenty of times to assess decibels.”

“Oh. I guess you don’t snore either, now that you mention it. Thank God.” Neal stood by the bed facing Peter and toweled off his chest and belly, perhaps showing off his ass for the audience, perhaps not.

“I might after heavy drinking,” Peter qualified. “Fair warning if you ever get me drunk.”

Neal slid under the sheets, propped on his elbows, and for the first time looked straight into the camera. “I hope, darling woman, that you find this to be all good and no bad. If not, make sure you tell me. Adjustments can always be made. And thank you, for this. All of it.”

“Night, Honey,” Peter said with a sleepy smile. “Love you.” Neal groped at the bedside table for a remote. The screen went grey.

“That was…” Elizabeth trailed off. She looked into Peter’s eyes. “Thank you for sharing that.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’m overwhelmed. In a good way.” 

Peter surreptitiously rearranged his trousers.

“Wait… what about you? Didn’t mean to leave you stuck on the edge there.” 

“That spectacular orgasm you had was the very next best thing. Savoring it without distraction is going to hold me until tomorrow.” He squinted at his watch. “Which, conveniently, is less than an hour from now.” He sighed and stretched. “Did you see it? How damn beautiful he is…” 

“I saw how beautiful you are together.”

Peter snorted. “You don’t have to baby my ego.”

“I mean it. Yes, Peter, he’s gorgeous. I have eyes. And I can glimpse what you see when he’s too gone to cover it. But what turns me on is how you two interact.” A slow, hint of mischief emerged. “Speaking of turn-ons, since you told me you’d admitted to Neal that you couldn’t imagine fucking or being fucked, I nearly squealed out loud when you almost begged him. That particular scenario has crossed my mind more than once.”

“I did not almost beg.” Then Peter looked taken aback. “It has? Top or bottom?”

“Silly. Why must men always categorize?”

“Hmm.” 

“Maybe you two should keep supplies handy, just in case,” she said, slyly. “Then at least it wouldn’t be stupid.”

Peter looked at her, dumbfounded. And then abruptly shifted the subject. “Watching… that was really amazing. I had to get over being self-conscious. Tough. But this way, I could see his whole response.” 

“I’ve decided that I much prefer watching sex without the bad music and porno super-close-ups. I could develop a thing for it after all.” She touched the flash drive. “Too bad this has to stay here. But of course, it does.”

“You want to stay here tonight?” Peter got up and offered her a hand.

She straightened her skirt as she stood, looked at the neatly made bed, considered, appeared tempted. “This space is for you two. I appreciate being brought in this far, visiting the fantasy. And I hope I’ll be asked again sometime. But tonight, I’d like to sleep in my own bed with you. Is that okay?” 

Peter stroked her hair tenderly. “Anything you want. Let’s go then.” He pulled the flash drive from the computer. “I have to stash this. There’s no telling when Moz will let himself in. And while I don’t particularly care what he knows…” 

Elizabeth put up a hand. “Couldn’t agree more.” She turned away while Peter put the drive wherever Neal expected to find it. “Neal is so dear, even with all his troubled complexity,” she said, musing. “This is a precious time.” She turned back to Peter as his footsteps came closer. She had tears in her eyes. “Will you be alright when he leaves? It’s going to be really hard for me. I can only imagine… will it break your heart?”

Peter pulled her close. “As inevitable as that particular bridge seems to be, let’s cross it when we come to it.”

They went home.

_He lay tangled in the sheets and felt a twinge of guilt for having eavesdropped. Even though it was his home. And he had only listened, not watched—he could easily have done both. He had shared with them his very most intimate moments, the truest self he could offer, and a little reciprocity seemed only fair. Still, it felt wrong. He had heard things he wasn’t meant to._

_After a moment more, he smiled and the constriction in his chest eased. Some little wrongs are worth it. He couldn’t afford to become too good._  
******


End file.
